Читать книгу Unconquered - Johnny Neil Smith - Страница 8

With a loud backfire, the 1930 black t model ford came to a sliding halt sending a cloud of dust swirling through the air and across the porch of Herrington’s General store in Little Rock, Mississippi.

“Whoaa, Popee! We almost ran into the steps,” exclaimed the young boy staring over at his great grandfather.

Twisting in his seat to peer over the hood and evaluate the situation, the old man replied, “Didn’t even come close, Andy. I got plenty of room and do you have to call me by that name?”

“I like the name Popee and I already have a Papa and a Grandpaw. I guess I’m just running out of names,” the young lad said smiling.

“Well, I’ve been called a lot worse during my lifetime. I guess I can live with it,” laughed the old man as he reached for the door handle. “Let’s go get us a cool soda, Andy. This heat is beginning to get to me.”

The boy reached for the old man’s hand. “This store is kinda run down. Where are we anyway? This place looks too small to be a town.”

Once again the man chuckled as he slowly stepped down from the automobile. “Town, no, it’s too small for that, maybe a village. It’s had several names through the years. Some called it Riversville and others Coontail, but it finally just became Little Rock.”

Satisfied with the explanation, the lad jumped down from the automobile and bounded up the steps that led to the entrance of the store. While opening the door, the boy paused and looked back. “Watch those steps, Popee. And you did almost hit the porch. Mama says you’re getting too old to be driving one of these things.”

Reaching for the handrail, the man grumbled, “I’m doing just fine and your mama talks too much.” Reaching the top step, he stopped to get his breath and continued, “and don’t call me that name so loud. There’s folks around.”

The boy laughed and hurried inside.

Standing there in the warm July sunshine, the old man paused and carefully scanned the area. Up the street he saw a large frame church with a tall steeple which brought back memories of throngs of people filing out of the large entrance way, shaking hands, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company as they shared their past week’s experiences with friends and neighbors. Children scampered here and there chasing one another, making the horses and mules harnessed to the buggies and wagons nervous.

Turning his attention to the other side of the village he saw the old blacksmith shop across the street much as he had remembered. Down near the creek the water-powered mill lay in ruins. Progress had taken its toll.

Looking closer, he found that many new homes had been built in the village and the railroad had finally reached this little remote community. Along with the homes, there were now a cotton gin, a barbershop and several other stores along the main street.

The dusty road awakened the image of a time when the stagecoach from Meridian would roll into town carrying travelers, goods and family mail; he remembered the excitement of possible visitors or hoped-for letters. It all seemed so long ago.

Breaking the silence, a small voice echoed from inside. “Popee, you ought to see all this stuff! They have everything in this old dump.”

Hurrying inside the old man found the boy standing in awe in the middle of the floor. Canned goods of every kind were stacked in shelves that rose to the ceiling and clothing on long racks ran the length of the building. Exposed beams were covered with smoked hams and sausages, and support braces holding up the roof were loaded with saddles, harnesses, bridles and every imaginable item needed for working animals.

“Shuu.., not so loud,” said the old man grabbing the boy by the hand and leading him toward the counter at the back of the store.

“But Popee, I ain’t never seen so much stuff like this. They have everything in the world in here. Look back there! They even got guns for sale,” the boy said pulling his great grandfather’s hand and leading him to the gun rack. “Will you buy me one of those? I bet I could shoot it. Mama said you were in the war and did a lot of shooting. Said you shot a bunch of Yankees. Can I hold one of ‘em?”

Frowning down at the boy and leading him away from the rack the old man replied, “You’re too young to be thinking about owning a rifle and as for me in a war, I try to forget those days. Killing other human beings just ain’t right—downright ungodly. When you get older your father will probably teach you how to handle one of these and there isn’t anything more fun than a good squirrel huntin’. Your time will come, lad.”

“Then how about that cool soda?”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied leading the boy to the counter.

The clerk who had been busy restocking a cracker barrel pushed his glasses up and carefully studied the two eagerly awaiting his service. “Well, I hope you don’t think I have intentionally been ignoring ya. I seen you was a havin’ a good time looking over the old place and it did give me time to catch up on some chores. Can I help ya?”

The boy yanked at the old man’s sleeve and motioned for him to bend down.

“Popee, they talk funny down here. I bet it’s Choctaw ain’t it,” he whispered. With a loud burst of laughter the old man exclaimed, “Choctaw? We’re in Miss’sippi, Andy. They talk southern down here.”

“You folks ain’t from here ‘bouts, are you?” the clerk asked, wondering what had brought this unusual pair into his establishment. “Say you want a soda?”

“Coldest you got,” said the old man reaching into his pocket for some change. “We’re hot and might near worn to a frazzle. By the way, how’s the times down here in Little Rock treating you young man?”

Placing two cold sodas on the counter, the clerk paused and wiped his brow. “They says a depression is hittin’ the country. I says we has always had hard times down here. The old folks say that it ain’t been the same since the Yankees took us apart back years ago. Now where’s you folks from?”

Andy opened his drink and began to gulp down big swallows. As he stopped to take a breath, he answered, “I’m from Maryland and my Pops is from everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” the clerk said. “That’s hard to imagine.”

The old man chuckled. “What he means is that I have lived in a lot of places. You know, I ain’t a spring chicken.”

Giving the old man his change, the clerk asked. “How old are ya? If you don’t mind tellin’ me, sir.”

“Well,” he replied, scratching his head. “I’m might near eighty-five, I guess. Eighty-five will do.”

The clerk shook his head. “Ain’t many of you fellows left ‘round here. You go back a spell.”

Just then the screen door opened and a group of women came in and approached the clerk.

The old man led his great grandson outside to a bench on the shady side of the porch.

“What do you think of the town, Andy?” the old man asked reaching down and patting the boy on the back.

“I thought you said this place was a village,” the boy answered, more interested in the soda than conversation. In a moment he continued. “I think the store is great.”

The old man smiled. “You see that bridge down yonder? I’d like to go down there and look around the creek. Might even see some fish or maybe a turtle. Who knows, we might even find one of those Choctaw arrowheads.”

“Arrowheads?” exclaimed Andy. “Let’s go” Andy jumped up and pulled on his great grandfather’s shirt sleeve.

“Not so fast, boy. You’ll pull me down if you don’t be careful. You run on ahead. I’ll catch up with you. Just don’t go near the water ‘till I get there. You hear me?”

“I hear you. Don’t get in the water,” the boy said over his shoulder as he sprinted for the creek.

Standing on the shady bank, Andy was mesmerized by his surroundings and the waters below. He could imagine a party of fierce Choctaw warriors as they stopped to rest and wash their wounds after a bloody clash with the north Mississippi Chickasaws. He imagined a deer easing to the edge of the water and then trying to escape before he could shoot an arrow at him.

“Well, what do you propose to do, Son,” questioned the old man as he looked down from the bridge.

Andy shook his head. “Popee, I rightly don’t know but I think it would be fun to wade out in the water and maybe see if I could find one of those arrowheads.”

The old man eased down and found a comfortable place to rest on the edge of the bridge., “Well, go ahead and get on in there. There ain’t no gators round here.”

Andy looked up at his great grandfather in uncertainty. “But I can’t swim very well. What if I fall and get drowned.”

“Drowned! The water ain’t knee deep. This used to be the place where wagons crossed heading in and out of Little Rock. Get those shoes and socks off and get on in there, Boy.”

The lad hesitated. “But, what if I get my clothes wet. Mama will sure get mad with me.”

“Mad? Your mother is too straight laced. She needs to let you be a boy sometimes. We’re visiting down here. It’s time to have some fun. She’s gonna make a softy out of you. Now if you want to get in that water, then get at it and if you don’t that’s also fine with me. Just make up your mind.”

Looking down at the cool, clear water, Andy could wait no longer. He sat down and hurriedly took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his britches legs and waded out into the stream.

For the first few moments, Andy splashed around enjoying the cold water and a new experience in this wilderness, and then he began studying everything in and around the creek. Every small rock became an arrowhead for his great grandfather to see, but finding out that his arrowheads were only small rocks, he would race down the steep bank in search of another.

The afternoon passed quickly as the two enjoyed the quest.

Tiring from too many trips up and down the creek bank, Andy scrambled once more down to the water. In his haste, his feet slid out from under him, and he sailed into the creek, head first.

Emerging as quickly as he had entered and giving a loud snort, the boy quickly regained his balance. Andy looked down at his muddy, wet clothing and then slowly looked up at his great grandfather. “ Popee, Mama’s gonna tan my hide I know. If she don‘t, Aunt Betty sure will.”

The old man smiled down at the boy. “You didn’t drown did you?”

“No Sir, I’m still alive, I reckon.”

“Then you wash the clay off your clothes and then come on up here. I think you need to rest a spell.”

“You ain’t mad at me, Popee?”

“Heavens no, child. I been waiting on you to get in that water and I’ve been disappointed that it’s taken you this long to get soaked. You come on up here and we’ll go get us another one of those sodas.”

“What about Mama, Popee?”

Placing his arm around the boy the man replied, “Your clothes will dry and this will just have to be our secret. That all right with you?”

“Yes sir. I wish I could stay with you all the time. You’re a lot of fun.”

Entering the store again, the two found the clerk in a rocking chair sound asleep. Hearing the floor creak, the clerk aroused from his slumber, adjusted his glasses and muttered, “May I help ya?” Recognizing the two, he continued, “I thought y’all might be long gone by now.”

“Been down to the creek hunting for arrowheads and I kinda fell in the water. Need another one of those cold sodas, Sir.”

The old man smiled down at the lad. “It’s getting pretty hot out there. By the way, where is everyone? Looks like you ought to have more business than this.”

“Most folks is out in the fields this time of the year and it’s hotter than four hells out there today. Ain’t nobody stirring ‘round here, except maybe folks like you who is from everywhere. Here’s your soda. Just leave yore money on the counter. I’m going back to my chair.”

The old man and the boy decided it was time for them to leave the clerk in peace so they quietly made their way back out to the bench on the porch.

Sitting there in the shade, Andy stretched out on the bench and rested his head on his great grandfather’s lap. “World looks different down here looking up, Popee. Kinda hard to see up through your fuzzy white beard though. It looks like a briarpatch and your nose holes resembles some tunnels where trains come through puffing and clanking.”

Pushing the boy’s hair out of his face, the old man replied. “You have some kind of imagination, boy. I used to like to daydream too.”

Growing sleepy, Andy gazed up at the sky and pointed. “Popee, I can see all kind of things up there in those clouds. I think I see an elephant. No, it’s just an old bear, maybe.”

Eyes closing, he mumbled, “Popee, would you tell me one of those stories about when you were a young man? One of those about the big war you fought in?”

“Your Mama don’t like for me to tell about the war,” he replied, but thinking back he began to reminisce. “My life has been good in many ways, but there are things I want to forget. Things too painful to think about, much less speak about.”

Glancing back down at Andy, he saw that the boy was sleeping soundly. “Sleep on young man. Chase your dreams, harness the rainbow, fight your battles and enjoy the life the good Lord has given you.”

Looking up at the clouds, he could see himself as a youngster lying on a sandy creek bank listening to the water ripple across the rocks bringing fantasies tempting him to another kind of life. Shutting his eyes, it seemed that time had played a trick on him. The same sky full of puffy clouds had not changed at all. The sun was still up there laughing at him, tempting his patience. Thinking harder, he could vividly remember his days as a young man returning from a war that should have taken his life, only to find that his older brother had died up in Virginia and another had deserted the army and fled to the West. He remembered the pain of loosing the woman he had worshiped since childhood and finding his country devastated by four years of struggle for survival against overwhelming forces.

It was a perilous time for the South. Home government was a thing of the past. The South lay conquered. The year was 1866.